Yet another side of contradictions in me has been discovered today.

How does one get disillusioned yet illusional at the same time? Yea, and that’s how the simple complexity of my life goes around.

Do not tell me I think too much. If one more person tells me that, I swear I will scream bloody murder at the top of my lungs. I am illusional for the non-existent images and non-existent sounds that I hear and see. Perhaps, I am disillusioned the moment I am aware of my illusions.

Ironically pathetic.

Day of the Elm by Marcello Febbo

I read a book recently and it was about a girl whose dream was to travel the world. I guess there are a lot of us out there. Anyway, by unforeseen circumstances, she did not manage to go on her backpacking trip even though she left home to work in a huge city right after she graduated. Instead, she went home and discovered something more to life and the people around her.

In the book, there’s a particular part that I like and would like to share with all with regards to happiness:

'Are you happy?' he asked tenderly.
'Ah, that's the question. I think i am - and I don't like it. Are you?'
'Yes. And i don't like it either.'
'It's scary. It could just go, then you'd be really miserable because you'd have known what happiness is like.'
'It's a bummer. Lie down, will you. Go to sleep.'
She lay down, cuddled into him. 'Of course you'd be secretly happy once you were miserable again, because that's your natural state.'
'That's true. Will we go for that? Never see each other again?'
'No, I don't want that.'
'Neither do I. We'll just have to risk it. We'll be dubiously happy together. Holding hands waiting for glorious misery to strike.'

Somehow, this makes me wish there would be a someone who’ll be willing to risk it with me, be happy together, holding hands waiting for glorious misery to strike.

I guess age has caught up with me.